“Going to see a steam engine start, are you! Well, take care, David, you don’t get too near. They do say they’re terrible dangerous things, and fer my part I can’t see what good they’ll be, fer nobody’ll ever be willin’ to ride behind ’em, but I’d like to see it start well enough. And that sweet little wife of yours thinks she ain’t got a good enough bonnet. Land sakes! What is the matter with her Dunstable straw, and what’s become of that one trimmed with blue lutestrings, and where’s the shirred silk one she wore last Sunday? They’re every one fine bonnets and ought to last her a good many years yet if she cares fer ’em. The mice haven’t got into the house and et them, hev they?” “No, Miss Susan, those bonnets are all whole yet I believe, but they don’t seem to be just the suitable thing. In fact, I don’t think they’re over-becoming to her, do you? You see they’re mostly blue——” “That’s so!” said Miss Mitchell. “I think myself she’d look better in pink. How’d you like white? I’ve got a pretty thing that I made fer Hannah Heath an’ when it was done Hannah thought it was too plain and wouldn’t have it. I sent for the flowers to New York and they cost a high price. Wait! I will show it to you.” She took a candle and he followed her to the dark front room ghostly with bonnets in various stages of perfection. It was a pretty thing. Its foundation was of fine Milan braid, creamy white and smooth and even. He knew at a glance it belonged to the higher order of things, and was superior to most of the bonnets produced in the village. It was trimmed with plain white taffeta ribbon, soft and silky. That was all on the outside. Around the face was a soft ruching of tulle, and clambering among it a vine of delicate green leaves that looked as if they were just plucked from a wild rose bank. David was delighted. Somehow the bonnet looked like Marcia. He paid the price at once, declining to look at anything else. It was enough that he liked it and that Hannah Heath had not. He had never admired Hannah’s taste. He carried it home in triumph, letting himself softly into the house, lighted three candles, took the bonnet out and hung it upon a chair. Then he walked around it surveying it critically, first from this side, then from that. It pleased him exceedingly. He half wished Marcia would hear him and come down. He wanted to see it on her, but concluded that he was growing boyish and had better get himself under control.